Chapter Twenty-One

Carwyn heard something rustle and break in the forest, as if a tree had fallen, but before he could ask Clovis if the old man had heard the same thing, he heard a soft whistle from the port side of the boat.

He looked over the edge to see what looked like a young man with the unmistakable energy of a water vampire, standing in a long canoe that curved up at the bow. It was smooth and silent in the choppy water, as if the vampire in the boat was holding the water still with his presence.

He stood at medium height, his legs spread wide in the belly of the canoe, a slick leather cape hanging over his shoulders. His hair was buzz-cut, and his cheekbones were high, his face showing the planes typical of Native humans in the area.

"Hey, Clovis."

The old man nodded. "Ey-ah, Gus. This is the one Jennie was talkin' about."

Gus shifted his eyes to Carwyn. "You the digger who found our elder?"

"If you're talking about the old one who was injured, I am."

"Cool." Gus nodded. "Happy to help you out. You good on boats? Most of your kind ain't."

"It's not my favorite form of travel." He glanced at the rocking canoe no wider than a Volkswagen Beetle. "But I'll manage."

"I'll keep the boat easy," Gus said. "Head over to the stern and Clovis has a ladder."

Without a sound, Gus crouched down, stuck his hand in the water, and the canoe began to move to the back of the boat.

He might have looked young, but the vampire's amnis was strong.

"Good luck." Clovis slapped Carwyn's shoulder. "You want a life vest before you get in there?"

"I can't drown."

"Nah, but it's plenty cold if you sink to the bottom." Clovis's grin showed two missing teeth. "Anyway, Gus'll take care of yeh."

Carwyn climbed down to the canoe, surprised by how steady it was under his feet. Gus was waiting in the middle of the vessel and quickly directed him to a broad bench a little forward of center.

"You're heavy," Gus said. "That's good. Nothin' worse than light cargo in winter water."

"Glad to help." He turned to look at the distant blue lights of the converted barge. "Have you seen this boat before?"

"Here and there." Gus stuck his hand in the water again, and the boat started moving as if propelled by unseen oars. "I keep to myself though. Don't want anything to do with the Russians."

"This boat is owned by a Danish vampire."

"Russian," Gus muttered. "Dane. American. Whatever." He shrugged. "Not our people."

Carwyn was curious. "Do you mind? Katya's the regional power here, and she's Russian."

The corner of his mouth turned up. "Katya deals with the Americans and the Russians. She's good at paperwork."

"And she leaves you and Jennie and the rest of the vampires up here alone."

He nodded. "Exactly."

"What about Oleg?"

"Eh, most Russians aren't too bad," Gus said. "Don't like hearing about that elder though."

"There might be rumors that Oleg's people are responsible for that, but I don't think that's right." Carwyn leaned to the right to look around the bow. "For what it's worth."

"You're old," Gus said. "I can tell. You probably know some stuff."

The canoe approached the barge, and as Gus and Carwyn stopped talking, the heavy weight of silence fell over them. The wind hushed through the trees and the slow creak of the forest occasionally broke through the night, but the only sounds of humanity came from the long barge with the three glowing portholes.

Carwyn glanced back at Gus, but the vampire said nothing, piloting the vessel close and silent around the flat ship tucked back in the cove.

Where was Ben?

Carwyn listened for voices, but they were speaking rapidly in accents that weren't familiar. Occasionally a snippet would break through.

"…thinks we don't know."

"…the plan? Because from what I've heard…"

"…the point. Nothing is clear and that's where?—"

"Do you hear something?"

Carwyn held his breath, and Gus pulled his hand from the water, letting the canoe drift.

"…nothing. Probably crew."

"You're right… human…"

He let out his breath.

"…desperate for some new blood."

"Unless you want to go on a shore excursion with?—"

"Absolutely not. Those Neanderthals…" More words lost to a gust of wind. "…don't need that kind of…"

"I feel the same way. …just want to live my eternity in peace and not have to hide."

"The hiding is exhausting."

The last answer was spoken in a voice that told Carwyn the speaker had never been truly exhausted in her life. He thought it was two women, but he couldn't be sure.

"Hey," Gus whispered to Carwyn. "Gonna take us up the side unless you want to stay here."

"No, let's go around." Carwyn was curious to find out who else was on the boat. There were two female vampires from what he could glean from the previous conversation. Were there other vampires too? And where the hell was Ben?

Gus gave Carwyn a low grunt as they approached another set of lit portholes. This time there was more sound of equipment and business than voices. Someone was washing dishes, and another voice was shouting orders at what sounded like servers.

"—grab that tray. Number three is going to want that blood fresh or she'll…"

"Yes, Chef."

Chef, huh? Of course Henri Paulson's vampire safe havens had professional chefs on board. What would hiding from humans be without human servants?

It was one of the chief ironies of immortal life that most vampires considered themselves superior to human beings, but they could not survive without them. It grated on every vampire Carwyn knew, either because they hated having to hunt humans for blood—like his wife—or they hated being dependent on something they considered inferior, which was most of the rest of the immortal world.

Humans provided their chief sustenance, took care of their daily needs, staffed their homes during the day, ran errands and did tasks that vampires couldn't do because they happened during daylight.

Humans didn't need vampires. A good case could be made that vampires offered them nothing of value and their lives would be better if the last bloodsucker died out.

But vampires? Vampires were nothing without humans.

"Sounds like the staff quarters," Gus muttered. "I hear at least half a dozen."

Carwyn wondered if any of that staff were from the Flying Dolphin, the missing yacht that had belonged to Henri Paulson.

"On a boat this large, how many crew members would you need?" Carwyn asked.

Gus looked up and down the barge. "Depends on how many passengers. To just pilot the thing? Not that many. You could get by with two or three. But this is a passenger ship now. And passengers need crew."

"Take it around," Carwyn said. "I want to see if I can get on deck."

Gus's eyebrows went up. "You sure about that?"

"Those two vampires we heard didn't know what ‘the plan' was," Carwyn said. "I want to see if I have better luck figuring it out."

They found a ladder on the far side of the barge, metal rungs welded to the body of the ship. Carwyn put his finger to his lips and turned to Gus, who nodded and waited for Carwyn to climb the first rung before he drifted the canoe away from the barge.

The water in the cove was calm, but the wind tugged at his clothes, making climbing a challenge. Luckily the ship and the rungs were metal, which had always liked Carwyn.

His elemental energy had always gotten along well with metal. Raw metal in the earth loved him, and even forged and manufactured metal appreciated his touch.

He clung to the side of the ship, crawling up the rungs until he was just under the deck. He paused, waiting for any voices to pass by, but he heard nothing.

Carwyn's size belied his swiftness. He swung his legs up and heaved his body onto the deck of the barge, immediately crouching down to lower his profile. If any guards were watching, he didn't want to raise alarms.

Fortunately, the only guard he could see was on the far side of the deck near what looked like an outdoor kitchen covered by a metal shade.

He scanned the deck of the barge, his eyes sweeping from the tip of the ship where it looked like someone was fishing to a wood-clad building in the middle of the deck with steam pouring from the top.

A sauna? Interesting.

To the right, he saw five containers that all looked like they were wearing a fresh coat of paint. There were lit walkways that led from one to the next, raised containers spilling over with plants in the winter, which meant they had to be heated. The air was full of the scent of pine, not from the forest around them but from strategically placed stations along the walkways that pumped fragrance into the environment.

It was as luxurious as a five-star hotel, but it was floating.

Carwyn walked quickly and silently toward the containers, curious if they were what he thought. He put his ear to one and heard movement, so he quickly moved to the next.

Two vampires in the stern of the ship, one in a container. That was three at least.

He glanced at the door and saw that each of the containers was numbered.

Number three is going to want that blood fresh…

The memory of the chef's barking voice matched the number on the container where someone was stirring.

Carwyn moved to container five, the last of the containers that was sitting at the back of the deck. He put his ear to the side, listening for movement.

Nothing.

Trying the door, he discovered it was locked, but he twisted his wrist to the side with a sharp crack and the knob came loose, dangling on the freshly painted door. He pushed his fingers inside the lock mechanism and pulled the pieces out, crushing them in his hand before he tossed them overboard.

Carwyn pushed the door in and blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the pitch-darkness There was a lamp near the door, and he reached for it, closing the door before he switched it on.

A low light filled the container, and Carwyn could see exactly why the chef had been barking orders.

While they were industrial on the outside, these containers had been converted into luxuriously appointed small apartments, complete with a living area, a kitchenette and bar, and a door at the back that likely led to another reinforced sleeping compartment for daytime.

Carwyn walked to a marble-topped desk in the corner to pick up a gold-leaf piece of stationery with an engraved elephant at the top of the page, painted in sky blue. The name Henri Paulson was written at the top, and under that name was a single line.

Welcome to Bl? Havn, the beginning of a new world.

"A new world, eh?" He flipped over the page, but there was nothing else. There was, however, a leather portfolio sitting to the right, and when he opened it, he saw a menu of services not unlike a room service guide at a luxury resort.

There was a guide to the ship, including a map that showed where the sauna, the spa, the library, and the entertainment rooms were. After that, there was a Menu tab he flipped open.

"Caviar," he murmured. "Oysters. Lobster and salmon, of course."

Under a light menu of human food were more offerings to tempt the vampire palate. A list of blood-wines and fresh and preserved blood. Exotic blood like caribou and moose had a note that advance order was necessary.

He flipped to the next page and saw a menu of humans on staff, including pictures and a note that sexual favors were included with all meals upon request.

And then two lines under that: Complete live meals arranged by ship's porter.

Complete. Live. Meals.

What the fuck did a complete meal mean? Carwyn could guess, and it was enough to make his blood boil.

He flipped through the staff pictures, looking for the face of a cheerful blond woman he'd seen on a cell phone screen wearing a blue striped shirt and a red scarf, but she wasn't in the directory. Either Christy the chef had been taken to another boat that Paulson owned or she was dead.

Unfortunately, with things like complete live meals on the menu, the chances of Christy being alive after so many weeks were slim.

He quickly searched the rest of the container, but the back room had a combination lock, and he didn't have the time. He grabbed the leather portfolio along with a clump of papers in a folder that was shoved in a desk drawer and headed back toward the door.

Carwyn opened it and came face-to-face with a mustached guard whose eyes went wide.

The vampire opened his mouth, but before he could shout, Carwyn rammed his fist into the man's face, knocking him across the walkway and into the container opposite the one he'd just searched.

The guard thunked against the steel wall before he slid to the ground and rolled to the side. In seconds he was back on his feet, and Carwyn had to make the quick decision whether he was going to put the guard out of commission or run.

The cautious part of him said run, but then he thought about Gus waiting silently in his boat. The last thing he wanted to do was put one of Jennie's people in danger.

The guard came charging again, still not shouting for help, and Carwyn wondered whether keeping appearances up was so built into the crew of this ship that they'd lost all common sense.

He reached out, trying to wrestle Carwyn to the ground, but the big earth vampire ducked to the right, punched into the man's kidney, and the guard fell to his knees.

The guard reached back, throwing a punch over his shoulder and into Carwyn's face. It hurt and split his lip open, but there was little force behind the awkward attack.

Carwyn locked his elbow around the guard's neck and wrested it to the side, twisting the man to the deck in a headlock that made an audible crack as he fell.

The man shuddered for a second, then went still, his neck broken. He was still alive, but he wouldn't be moving for twelve hours or so. Carwyn stood, bracing himself as he looked around to see if anyone had heard the fight, but the whipping wind must have carried the sound of their violence away.

Carwyn remembered Clovis's words before he'd left the fishing boat with Gus.

"You want a life vest before you get in there?"

"I can't drown."

"Nah, but it's plenty cold if you sink to the bottom."

Despite what he'd seen in the portfolio, he didn't want to kill the guard that night until he got more information. He could, however, throw him overboard and let the ocean decide his fate.

"I'd say I'm sorry" —Carwyn kept his voice low, glad that the wind was coming off the stern and heading up the bow where he was planning to dump the motionless guard— "but I'm not. If you're working with Zasha Sokholov, I hope the fishes eat your liver by dawn."

With a giant heave, Carwyn tossed the vampire overboard, then grabbed the portfolio and gathered the papers that had scattered in the wind before he ran for the ladder and the waiting boat.

If the sound of the guard's splash made it to the deck of the freighter, he didn't want to know.